


Memories

by sleepysweaters



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Molestation, Other, Suicide Attempt, sorry - Freeform, there's nothing else but eddie frank and sonia, this is just angst, uhm tbh it's just eddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 12:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepysweaters/pseuds/sleepysweaters
Summary: Sometimes it was hard to remember what it was like before his dad had passed away, but there were days Eddie was plagued with every memory imaginable.





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be part of a fic, but I doubt I'll ever get around to writing it.  
> Love you guys ;,)

Sometimes it was hard to remember what it was like before his dad had passed away, but there were days Eddie was plagued with every memory imaginable. How his father sang around the house while the radio played in the background. How every night Eddie was tucked in securely and read a story to bid him goodnight. His mother used to be happier and let her child run around outside without worry.

Everything changed whenever his father fell ill, and Eddie remembered those memories too. He painfully remembered every single memory, and it was hard for him to breathe whenever he remembered right before his father went to the hospital. Not because he knew his father was sick, but because of what his father did.

As a four year old, he loved his father so much. Everything he ever did was for him, and his father ended up using that to his advantage. Secure blanket tucked beneath him were replaced with Eddie naked and crying because “daddy, you’re hurting me!” It was replaced with his mother looking the other direction whenever Eddie began to shit himself from being raped consecutively. The fear of being hurt again caused Eddie to refuse his own father’s touch.

Whenever his father was placed in the hospital, Eddie was slightly relieved and he felt guilty due to it. His mother began to tuck him, but never actually touching him. The young boy hated being touched, he claimed it felt dirty and wrong. It was his father’s fault, but Sonia was too afraid to admit that. She began to just say her child was constantly sick instead to cope with the fear and frustration of not being able to love on him.

He began to take medication to feel clean and healthy, but the damage had already been done. Eddie didn’t sleep over at anyone’s house and he didn’t leave his room without plastic gloves. One night Sonia asked him why he constantly wore them, and he was merely five years old.

“I don’t want to get the sickness daddy has, but I’m scared I already have it because of him touching me!” He exclaimed with fear etched into his face and words. Sonia just stared at him and nodded, this was when the rift between the two officially happened.

A mother and son grew distant due to the damage his father had left on him, and then Frank died. Neither were particularly close again, but the five year old boy didn’t have any peace over the topic.

He didn’t cry over the death, but he didn’t celebrate it either. It felt like a stranger had died, one he had only barely known but lived in his own home. At the age of 16, he wondered if that would be how his mother would feel whenever he died. A stranger living in her house, no longer alive to say good morning or good night.

She’d no longer have to make him breakfast or dinner. He wouldn’t be a financial problem anymore due to his therapy visits. Of course, she went to some as well, but nothing like the small brunette boy did. His therapy sessions costed more than most did, but he had to deal with the trauma of being mentally and psychically abused for years.

Would his mother feel better once he was dead? Would it be like his father all over again? She wouldn’t cry, but just stare at the television before going to work every day.

The brunette wondered this as he stared in the mirror, looking over himself within his favorite pink polo shirt and khaki shorts. It was blazing hot within his home, and everything felt suffocating. Air almost refused to go in and out of his body, but that could’ve been since he did have asthma. Did his mother not know how to turn on the air conditioner?

“I never imagined it would be this hard, to say goodbye to yourself,” Eddie managed to say as he took a deep breath in. Suicide had never been in his mind this much before today, before he could feel his father touching him again.

The brunette felt disgusting, and couldn’t wash it off. He scrubbed over and over and over and over, but this smell and touch of his father still lingered after 11 years. Tears scratched at his eyes, wanting to drip out, but he refused to let anything happen. He halted his breathing in order to do so, but it caused a coughing fit and tears pooled down his under eye circles to his chin.

Eddie had always been suicidal in a way, but today was another level. Another level of tear stained cheeks and raw skin from how hard the washcloth was rubbed against his skin. The touch of his skin was scolding from how the countless showers ran only boiling hot water in order to get the stench of alcohol from his skin.

He knew that the touch and smell wasn’t actually there, but he couldn’t help but try to scrub it away anyways. He couldn’t help but burn his skin repeatedly in order to make it to where Frank Kaspbrak had never touched him. He just couldn’t help it anymore.

“Just fucking do it, Eddie,” he screeched at himself, taking the pill bottle his mother hid away of her antidepressants. She didn’t use them, because she believed she was okay. She believed that being so depressed you couldn’t leave the house was okay.

Dumping around eight pills in his palm, he found a bottle of water. He didn’t want to die choking, he already dealt with his breathing problems far enough. Throwing a couple in his mouth, he swallowed them with a gulp of water and then repeated the process once again. There was an urge to vomit, but he decided to ignore it. It was easier to ignore things like that if it was possible.

The curiosity of how death would feel came as he jumped on his bed. He was staring at the ceiling, room spinning and he was exhausted. Part of him wanted his mom. Sonia was suddenly at his bed, and he didn’t remember when she got here. She held a bucket, and he threw up. He knew he had wanted to vomit, but he didn’t know why his mother was here to hold a bucket.

His eyes started to flutter close, and he just wanted to sleep. Everything hurt but felt at peace at the same time, and Eddie just wanted a nap.  
“I’m tired,” he told her and Sonia shook her head at the idea of him falling asleep, because it was important that he didn’t. The mother held a phone in her hands, on the phone with an ambulance.

“911, my son just overdosed on my antidepressants, can you please come?” Sonia pleaded, tears cascading down her face and Eddie smiled at her sadly. She was telling them the address as Eddie reached out and touched her face sleepily.

“I love you, Mom. Good night,” Eddie breathed out before falling asleep. He felt himself being put in the ambulance and he knew he wasn’t dead, but all the brunette knew was that he was grateful for a dreamless sleep for the first time in years.

He was grateful for the first sleep without a nightmare of his father haunting it.


End file.
